TUPPERWARE
by Jessieness
Summary: TAGTEAM with Maritinkerbell. Dedicated to our dear friends Becky and Ching. About a guy named Tupperware. (Jk.) Read the summary inside. Purely Jesse&Suze.
1. Bobby Darin & Beyond the Sea

**Summary:** Tagteam w/ Maritinkerbell. Who is really cool. So you should check out her profile and review some fics(ok, now you know I'm high when I start referring to myself in third person). Anyway…the real summary…um, Jessie? What happens? Oh right. So there's this ghost, oh and Suze and Jesse. And its after Twilight. BTW, men who cook are sexy. Sorry… and Suze is failing math, so she gets this tutor. Jesse's understandably not happy about this. Oh and there's a ghost. Who has a daughter. Oh, and the tutor's a guy. In case you couldn't figure that out for yourself. The ghost is a girl so Suze isn't happy either. Switching narration.

Lol. Hahaha. Can you believe that Mariekey wanted to cut that out? It's simply too cute not to share with everyone else, don't you think? Switching narration…who would've thunk it?

Awww, hunny…I love you.

Anyways, so me and Marieke have been waiting to do this sort of thing for quite awhile…ever since our dear friend Ching (**Charcoal Hearts**, go search her up, she writes real good) suggested that we do a fanficky together, since Marieke writes a_ fabulouso_ Suze, and I write an "excellent" Jesse. (Cough, cough, …ahem.)

So we thought and thought and one day in Borders, Becky dear mentioned Tupperware Man (the guy she's _currently_ stalking). And we thought….hmm… what a nice name. _Tupperware._

And as a result…we, the people of the **Borders at Stonestown; sit-in-the-aisle-on-Fridays-and-yell-random-things-while-complaining-about-our-math-teachers-club** proudly present… a little fanfic that we dedicate to our club members Becky and Ching…something that I happened to slave over for all of today—with constant interferance from my parents, "Why aren't you playing piano, Jessie?" "Why aren't you dancing ballet, Jessie?" "Is this_ really _homework, Jessie?"—and Mariekey too, of course…inspired by the good people at Borders (except for that meanie, who told us to get off the floor)…and made for the sheer enjoyment of Mediator-obssessed people like us… (deep breath)…(drumrolls)…(lots of clapping)…** TUPPERWARE**.

Disclaimer: We don't own Jesse, Suze, her mother, any of the steps, or anything else that belongs to Meg Cabot.

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Chapter one.

"What's another word for 'devious'?" I called out loud, though not to anyone in particular.

"Your face," My stepbrother Dopey muttered under his breath. I looked at him in disgust. He was playing (if you can call it that) some video game on the living room TV. Apparently 'Cool Boarder' wasn't 'in' anymore. Or maybe Brad was just tired of losing to that one, too.

"What's the context?" David asked me.

"It's an essay I'm writing for Ethnic Lit." On the sofa. While being constantly distracted by sounds of shooting (that would be the game) and the ramblings of obscure science facts that no one cared about (that would be David, aka Doc).

"How about 'excursive'? Or 'scheming'?" Jesse stuck his head in from the kitchen, where he was receiving a cooking lesson from my stepfather Andy.

Yes, you read that right. Cooking lesson.

At one of our weekly Sunday-night dinners (wow, that was redundant), he had mentioned that Andy's food was the best he tasted all week, due to the fact that most of Jesse's meals usually consist of a hamburger and fries from McDonald's—I don't think men were ever taught to cook back in the _Wild, Wild Wes_t—andAndy had offered to teach him the "fine art of cooking." Jesse accepted, of course—is my boyfriend anything but polite when it comes to my family?—although he was worried that it would be too much trouble for Andy.

That was before I informed him that my stepfather had been trying to find someone to pawn off his cooking skills to since Jake had been old enough to handle a knife. None of us kids were at all interested though, and Mom ruins anything more complicated then ramen noodles.

I'm not even kidding. Once, when we still lived together back in New York, she asked me to boil her an egg. Who can't even boil a frikkin' egg?

That was when I was nine, and well, since that fateful day—I also found out that I'd been living on lean cuisine for the past three years—we just ordered out. That is, until she met Andy, who is like, the equivalent of the Iron Chef.

But back to the present. (a/n: which is kinda weird cuz this story is in past tense.) Jesse was working in the kitchen—looking oh-so-sexy in his checkered apron and chef's hat—which was why I didn't forsake the noisy living room and escape to my bedroom. I wanted to make sure that my steps didn't say anything too embarrassing to him. Besides, I needed to be there if he set anything on fire again. Watching Jesse swear in Spanish at inanimate objects is _outrageously _funny.

So there I was, sitting peacefully, daydreaming about the movie Jesse was taking me to later that evening (actually, more about my boyfriend then the actual film)…and er, thinking about my essay, when I felt someone tap my shoulder.

"You the mediator?"

(Jesse)

I was still dicing the tomatoes when she first showed up. It was hard to remember exactly what Andy had said to do with them—something about _green onions?_—so I was merely placing them (very carefully) in the bowl next to the olive oil before he came back and gave me some more directions.

I didn't even feel her presence until she started screaming. But the sound was so sharp and shrill—not unlike Marta's, whenever she found a rat under her bed—that it woke me out of my reverie and made me drop my knife.

It landed, with some force, blade down onto the Ackerman's kitchen tiles, just a few inches away from my left toe (A/n: haha. The _Friends_ thanksgiving episode).

"¡Mierda!" I bent down, quickly pulling it out of the crevice it had fallen into. "Jesse!" Susannah's voice was filled with desperation as it rang throughout the hallway. "Jesse! Get in here! I need—erm, help on my alliterations!"

Moving as quickly as I could, I picked up some spilled tomatoes and let them fall into the trash bin. Then I turned on the faucet to rinse the knife.

"_Jesse!"_

"I am coming, Susannah."

I found her collapsed on the sofa in the living room, the annoyance she was feeling clearly evident on her face. Her entire body was rigid, as though she were holding in a scream. She sat up, eyes flashing, fixated on the figure in front of her—who somewhat resembled that of a woman a few years older than myself (late twenties, not late hundred and seventies)—and muttered, though it was hard to tell through all the yelling, "Please…just get her out of here."

I shot Susannah a quisical look, then dragged the woman by the elbow towards the stairs. I felt ashamed for being so rough with her, but Susannah's reaction made something in me snap, as though_ I_ were the one being offended in some way. It was a horrible handicapp, this weakness I had towards her pleas.

Like something was tugging at me, at her every demand, and I had no choice but to comply, in order to keep the ruffled edges of my sanity.

There were many advantages to courting Susannah, but this was a definite kink.

* * *

A/N: Okay, everybody. We did our part. Now it's your turn…Review! (even though I won't get email alerted of your reviews cuz its Jessie's penname. About this: can you forward the email alerts to me, Jessie? Thanks.)

_Jesse does say 'kink.' Luke Mably is sexy._

_Ciao!_


	2. Backstreet Boys & Poster Girl

**_Sorry it took so long for us to update, but someone (cough, _Jessie_, cough) wasn't cooperating. Also, Jessie's computer died, so we had to retype it (retyping also involved deciphering what the mass of scrawlings on binder paper meant…Jessie didn't print a typed copy, so we only had the original). We wrote this chapter at Borders (which we are currently boycotting). _**

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Chapter two

. 

(Suze POV)

It was at the _end_ of math when Mr. Ambrose finally handed back our tests.

The _very _end, meaning, like, two minutes into passing period.

Now, I'm not the type of student who is usually late to French class (I had assures _Miss Minai_ at the beginning of this year that that little "incident" with the coffee machine would never happen again) so I had already packed up my stuff, gotten out my _"Bienvenue"_ text and slipped the straps of my Kate Spade tote over my shoulders.

The plan was to pick up my test paper while I was exiting the room—that way it would be easier to avoid Paul and Kelly, who were currently "expressing themselves" next to the whiteboard.

Only flaw in my scheme: I wasn't expecting them to move.

Apparently Paul and Kelly were following my strategy as well, since they stepped behind me just as I was leaving, still managing—in an astonishing feat that would amaze just about any circus crowd—to maintain lip-lock.

"If you intend to pass this class, Miss Simon, I suggest you get yourself a tutor." I glanced down at the test that Mr. Ambrose had just dropped into my arms.

D. Minus.

Okay, I know that this test wasn't my greatest (I mean, _sequences and series?_ Who gives a shit?) but a D? I _know_ I didn't deserve that.

"Nice, Suze," Paul smirked, glancing over my shoulder with (as always) no respect for my privacy whatsoever.

I made a face at him, carefully averting my eyes from Kelly's scintillating gaze. "Oh yeah?" I muttered while slipping my paper behind the cover of my textbook—if anyone were to see all those red marks, they'd think I was a crossing guard—and high-tailing it out of there.

It's not like it was _my_ fault for getting such a crap grade. I tried to study, but with the ghost of a twenty-five-year-old welfare recipient and a hot Latino ex-cowboy arguing, it was kind of hard to concentrate.

I mean, what with the cussing (especially in Spanish), not to mention the hurling of a variety of inanimate objects, it was louder than the uproar at the Super Bowl when Janet Jackson had her "wardrobe malfunction".

42-

So, after Jesse drags the woman up the stairs and into my bedroom, shouting to Andy, who had just returned with a power drill (his reasons for such an expedition still completely unbeknownst to the rest of us) that he would be down soon to finish basting the…whatever that needed basting.

He sat her down firmly on the window seat and began a reenactment of the Spanish inquisition. Unfortunately for me, his questions actually were _in Spanish_, so I had no idea what he was saying. It sounded vaguely like a Ricky Martin song, minus the tight leather pants (to my chagrin). Even more irksome, the woman answered in Spanish, so you can just imagine my very valuable contributions to this conversation.

Me: Jesse, what the hell are you saying to her?

Jesse: In a minute, _querida_. (Mumbles something in Spanish)

Woman: (Something in Spanish)

Jesse: (Something in Spanish back)

Me: Jesse!

Woman: (Something in Spanish, surprisingly louder this time. Windows start to rattle.)

Jesse: (Something in Mandarin. Not. Hurls a pillow on the ground.)

Me: Hey! That was twenty bucks at Pier 1!

Jesse: (Something in Spanish again, tone has changed to slight sarcasm.)

Woman: (Mumbles something incoherent. My princess phone is disconnected and hurled in the direction of Jesse's head.)

Mom: Suze! Jesse! What's going on in there? Andy says it's time for dinner.

Needless to say, I didn't have a very good night. Jesse left in a very bad mood, probably because he never got to finish basting…whatever it was that he was basting. Then my mother kept trying to "chat" with me, since "all that racket" simply _must_ have been a fight between us. Nice to know that my mother thinks so highly of my love life.

(This is wherea space would be, if thisdamn thingwould allow them.)

Unable to think of a scintillating reply to Paul and Kelly's taunts, I fled down the hall, murmuring that I was going to be late for French. I then dashed into the nearest bathroom (luckily it was a girls' room) and started to shred the note. If there's one thing I learned from all of my New York…er…escapades, it's that you always destroy incriminating evidence. So, I proceeded to shred the letter and then flush it down the toilet. I mean, if I didn't shred it, the toilet might overflow, and if I didn't flush it, someone might find the pieces and tape them back together (although I'm not sure what kind of a creepy stalker would actually go through all the effort just to find out how badly I'm failing math).

Once I had finished, I ran to class, very aware that the halls were now deserted. As soon as I opened the door, my French teacher, _Miss Minai_, looked at me and said "Well, well, well. It seems that Miss Simon here has decided to grace us with her presence." She went on into a boring lecture about the importance of getting to class on time. The long and short of it was that I was landed with a detention. And, my feet hurt because she wouldn't let me sit down until she had finished her speech. With that, and the prospect of having to look for a math tutor (the basic rule about college is that you need to graduate high school first, so I had better get working if I wanted NYU) you can see just what a lovely day I was having.

* * *

**Okay. I want the record set straight that it wasn't that I refused to cooperate. I was simply busy, with the sort of thing that ****Lowell**** nerd is usually busy with (tests, homework, outlines, outlines, outlines), and I had another ballet competition. So really, you can't blame me for this type of thing. I mean, I have a life, after all. No one expects me to be sitting down in my free time (however rare that is) writing fanfiction. **

**I _love_ love love Jesse and Suze, but it really isn't my kind of thing to sit around imagining their love life (anymore). And Borders sucks butt, peoples. Really, they don't let you eating anything in there (besides their stale, extravagantly-priced food. I mean, like Becky said. If they were selling french fries, don't you think we'd buy them there? _But no!_ They're selling coffee!).**

**_Dude, you spilled frikking _lemonade _on one of the books. Honestly._ **

**Shut up Marieke. They're all Nazis. Loads and loads of Borders Nazis. **

**The point is that we updated, and that we love you. **

**So review. **

**Ciao! **


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